Jezbet and the Philosopher's Stone
by ssfr
Summary: Harry didn't remember his godmother, before she drove up for a visit. Well, she was his grandmother's godmother, but that's close enough for government work. Or: Harry's fairy godmother is a naval aviator, but she's not from around here . . .
1. Chapter 1

Jezbet and the Philosopher's Stone

The short woman parked at the kerb in front of Number Four, Privet Drive, raised the door of her left-hand drive Mercedes Benz 300SL, and climbed out. The car lifted just a littleon it's suspension. She turned and closed the gullwing door. She adjusted her six-color desert camouflage cap, with three black stars in a row on the front. Her DBDUs are also of the "Chocolate Chip" pattern, named for the dark black "shadows" on the light spots. There is a row of black stars on either of her collar points, "Worldkiller" over her right pocket, and "US NAVY" over the left, under a patch with gold wings. Her boots seem to change shape as she crosses the hedge-line on the path to the door, but no one notices.

A tall woman with rather an excess of neck answers the door at her knock, and the pleasantly-wrinkled face smiles up, "Hello, Petunia."

"Hello, aunt Jezbet," Petunia says, faint annoyance in her voice, "Thank you for calling so I could get the guest room ready."

"Don't be sarcastic, Pet, it doesn't become you."

"Run out on a spur-of-the-moment vacation to avoid your fairy godmother one time," Petunia replied, turning into the house, "And she'll never let you live it down," she ruffled Harry's, who was closer, hair.

Harry backed up quickly, reaching up to ward her off. Dudley skuttled further out of range.

Jezbet closed the door behind her, and pulled her gloves off, tucking them in her cargo pocket opposite her hat. She stretches her arms over her head, and drops her glamour, grey bob fading into a black braid down almost to her knees, which seems thicker then it should be. Harry blinked at the slit pupils of her brilliant green eyes. Dudley noticed her boots, with six long toes like a facehugger's. or a birds, four forward, and two back, then out to the side as she relaxes onto her palms.

"Is Miriam coming today?" Petunia asked.

"She should be here in a bit, she had some shopping she wanted to do," Jezbet said, "Shall I tell her to let herself in?"

"Please," Petunia said, "It would be easiest if she just appeared in the hall."

"Not a problem," Jezbet said, "Has Harry gotten his Hogwarts letter yet?"

"No, and I was hoping he wouldn't."

"Dudley?"

"Seem to have as much magic as me," Petunia sniffed.

"Hmm," Jezbet dropped to one knee, so instead of being barely taller than the boy, she's looking up to him when she pinched both of his cheeks, then stood, "Yeah, same problem as you," she said, "Wrong temperament for accidental magic."

"Temperament?"

"Would you like to go to magic school Dudley, or are you happy with going to Smeltings?"

"How would you get me into magic school, if my temperament is wrong?"

"A bit of intentional magic, of course."

"What's magic school like?"

"Much like regular school, you have good students, bad students, mean kids, nice kids, and it's all politics from the top to the bottom. You're learning how to interact in society while the teachers are trying to distract you with piles of mostly-useless facts and a little bit of real learning."

"Will I get to hit people with my Smeltings Stick?"

"No, but you'll get to curse them in the halls, so long as you don't get caught."

"Let me think about it."

"Very well. If you want to go to Hogwarts you'll need to decide by about the middle of August."

"So you'll be around for a while?" Vernon grumbled from the doorway.

"Yeah, I will. I've a decade's worth of accumulated leave to burn off, and it doesn't look like there'll be any interesting flying for a while."

"Thought you could only accumulate a few years before you started losing it."

"Longest flying ace in the Navy," she smiled, "Totally backdoored the personnel systems."

"Ace?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. I flew a Hellcat off Saratoga in 1944 and 1945, flew Corsairs, Mustangs and Sabers in Korea, Phantoms in Vietnam, trained the Iranian Air Force on Tomcats, downed Iraqis last year, lots of fun shit."

"How?"

"Where I am is always where I'm supposed to be."

"How?"

"Magic, of course."

Vernon started to turn purple, "We don't use that word in our house."

"I almost forgot," Jezbet produced a small glass bottle, maybe 750ml, "I brought this for you."

Vernon admired the flattened bottle, "Kentucky bourbon, aged twelve years," he said, admiringly, "Thank you."

"What word do you use to describe the ability?"

"Hmmph."

"It seems you haven't got a good handle on your temper, yet. May I help?"

Vernon grumbled, "I said you could, if I didn't."

Jezbet reached up and rubbed his cheek, "Can I work on your metabolism, too?"

"You need a certain presence for sales, but," he shrugged.

"I can see that, the world you live in," Jezbet nodded, "There you go."

"What'd you do?"

"You don't have to worry about it, but when your temper rises? Your chest will hurt, the angrier you are, the more it will hurt. When you calm down, the pain will stop."

"And everyone will think it's heart disease, and encourage me to calm down, without noticing anything strange." Vernon nodded, "And the metabolism?"

"You're not going to enjoy starchy or sweet food until you're back under fifteen percent body fat."

"Could you fix up Dudley like that?" Vernon asked, "I got teased a lot for being pudgy in school."

"If he'd like," Miriam said, ruffling Dudley's hair with one six-fingered hand.

Dudley startled.

Harry laughed.

"That," Dudley looked to his father, then his mother, "Yeah, do that."

After dinner, Miriam produced a cloved and glazed ham to stretch what Petunia had planned, Jezbet spoke up, "I'll borrow Harry for a couple weeks, get him his school supplies?" she raised her voice at the end, as if it was a question.

"OK," Vernon agreed, "Will we see him before the start of the school year?"

"We'll arrange to visit," Miriam answered.

Goodbyes are made, and Vernon and Dudley follow them out to the car.

"I have told you that this is a lovely car, right?" Vernon says, stroking his hand just over the paint.

"You have," Jezbet smiles, "And you can still touch it. This one's the replica."

"Replica?" Dudley asked.

Jezbet opened the driver's door, reached across the steering wheel to put in the key, and pulled a knob on the door side of the wheel until the engine started. She opened the hood, and gestured.

"That's a twin-cam," Dudley said, leaning over the fender to look, "Almost on its side."

"Yup. She bought one brand-new in '54, then spent the next seven years building this one in her spare time. Chromoly chassis, aluminum body, she cast and machined the aluminum and iron bits, made the dies for the forgings, then ground them to size. She didn't make the tires, though, she buys those from Mercedes," Miriam, now looking, and sounding, like a 60-year-old, said.

"Yeah, that was fun. And it wasn't all my spare time," Jezbet looked at Miriam, and smiled a teasing smile.

"Not all, true," Miriam displayed a tiny blush.

Harry just blinked, then blushed himself.

"Do you have your bag, Harry?"

Harry hefted his pillow case, "Here."

"Let's get that in the trunk. It's a good thing you aren't brining much, because the trunk on this is kinda tiny," she opened the boot, showing off a full sized spare tire taking up most of the space, "I shrank the tank four gallons to sink the spare a bit, but," she shrugged, and the tucked Harry's bag into one of the corners. Jezbet closed the boot with a gentle click.

Harry lifted the passenger door, and climbed in, closing it behind him. He kneeled on the seat, looking over the back to verify that there isn't a back seat, then looked for Miriam. She had vanished as quietly as she'd appeared while he wasn't looking.

He sat, fumbled with the five-point cam-lock harness a moment before he figured it out, pulling the shoulders tight, then the waist. Jezbet climbed in the driver's seat, closed her door, and clicked her straps into the cam-lock buckle. Harry noticed that she had the waist belt down tight over the top of her thighs, and the shoulders a little loose, and adjusted his own harness.

Jezbet looked him over, and nodded, "Good. Let's go."

Harry waved happily to Dudley and Vernon, who waved back, if a bit less happily.

~*J*~


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Harry noticed when he stepped up into Jezbet's house was the books, even before the design of the entryway was noticed.

"Shoes in the shoe cabinet," Jezbet said, standing on one foot while she unlaced her boot, quick pulls loosening them over her ankles, and she grabbed the toes while she pulled her foot out. The boot was set in an open compartment of a low cabinet with many deep rectangular cubbies, and she pulled that sock off, setting her bare foot on the floor to repeat the process with the other boot.

Harry untied his trainers and set them in an open compartment, then took his socks off and held them while he stepped up into the rest of the house.

Jezbet slid open a door, "Laundry room," she dropped her socks in a basket.

Harry did the same at her gesture.

She slid the door opposite the washer and dryer open, "Bathroom." There's a tiled area with a shower, and a sunken tub with a cover, "Wash first, then soak."

There are no bookshelves in the laundry room or bathroom.

Out into he hall again, then a door on the other side, "Water closet."

There's a sink, a toilet, and bookshelves starting at a little higher than Harry's head on the walls and around the mirror over the sink.

Jezbet led the way down the hall a bit further, "Parlor," she said, opening a door. There was a sofa, a couple chairs, and a huge, unusually flat, maybe set into the wall or an alcove? TV. This room, too, was lined in books.

The door across the hall, with a time clock next to it, and a set of hooks to hang time cards on. She pulled a blank card out, and wrote Harry's name on it, then handed it to him. "This is the library, it is rather large, so be sure to clock in and out so someone will know to come looking for you." She punched her card, and put it on the "In" hook.

Harry, feeling strangely grown-up, did the same.

"Leave your bag, we'll be back in a bit."

Harry set it down.

Harry entered the room, and Jezbet closed the door behind them. The first room wasn't that big, about two stories tall, with ladders and a catwalk, and a card catalog by the door. It looked like it would fit in the house. The windows into the next room, however . . .

Jezbet flipped through the card catalog a moment, then led the way into the next room, down a flight of stairs, up a different flight, down a dark hallway, and over a catwalk between cavernous aisles of bookshelves, at least ten stories up, and then through low-ceilinged dark rooms, floor to ceiling bookshelves crowded so tightly together that they had to walk single-file, and Uncle Vernon would not have fit.

They walked down a half story worth of stairs, and onto another level, and Jezbet stopped to talk to an old man covered in orange fur, "This is my godson, Harry. He is allowed to check out three books at a time. Please send him home at dinnertime if he forgets."

The old man nodded, "Oook," he said, and nodded.

"Harry, this is the Librarian of the Unseen University, one of several libraries which have an interlibrary loan agreement with Miriam and I,"

"Nice to meet you," Harry said. He held out a hand for a shake.

The Librarian smiled, nodded, and shook Harry's in his own rather worn and callused hand.

Jezbet came back with a thick, dusty book, which she handed to Harry, "The checkout counter for the Unseen University is over here," she said before she led the way.

Harry looked at the cover, which had probably had something on it once, but was just battered now, then the spine, which had a gilt decoration, a letter H, and gilt that was probably letters once. He set the book on the counter, and looked inside, "Hogwarts, A Hystory" said the title page.

Harry signed the ledger where the young man behind the counter indicated, and the young man tucked a bookmark with a strange date on it inside, "This will be due back in two weeks. If you'd like to keep it longer, come back to renew it before the due date."

"Thank you," Harry told him.

Jezbet led him back a different way, through rooms full of little round cubbyholes with scrolls in them, down a huge spiral ramp with books on one side, and a railing overlooking the center atrium, which had a glassed-over fishpond at the bottom. He paused for a bit at the bottom, as he realized the goldfish, long, slender ones in a variety of shades and colors, orange, gold, calico like a cat, white, were bigger than he was.

"Yeah, she has some nice koi," Jezbet said. She ruffled his hair, "You can come back to look at them later, we have a walk ahead of us, and I don't want to keep you up all night."

"OK," Harry nodded, and with a last glance back stepped through the next door.

The next room was vast, sunlight streaming in the windows, low shelves dotting the space, and full of chairs, tables, and people reading or researching.

The room after was similar, but empty, and lit by moonlight through the windows. Another door, a short hallway, and Harry could see where they started.

Jezbet punched her card, and hung it on the "Out" hook.

Harry clocked out, too, "How would you find me? Even if you knew I was missing?"

"Magic, but it would take time, so try not to get too distracted."

Harry nodded, "OK."

The next room seemed to share space with the library, a large, open-plan dinning room and kitchen, with counters noticeably lower than the ones at Number 4, Privet Drive. The space is at least as large as the living room, dining room, and kitchen of his aunt's house.

"Help yourself to anything," Jezbet said, "The cookbooks are spillproofed, but don't catch them on fire, and clean up after yourself. If you finish something off, write it on the chalkboard so we know to get more."

Harry nodded.

"Bedrooms are up the stairs," Jezbet indicated.

Harry led the way, "Miriam and I's room is here, and the guest rooms are on this side. There's a shared western-style bath between them. Feel free to read any of the books in either room, whichever you choose."

The first room is in pale wood and hunter green covers, and the second is in dark wood and a reddish purple.

Harry set his bag down in the room with green covers and set "Hogwarts, A Hystory" on the desk.

Jezbet smiled at him, "Get settled, have a bath if you'd like, and we'll be back to tuck you in in a bit," she snorted, "Unless you're too old for that already?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't know," he said, "My aunt doesn't tuck us in."

Jezbet nodded, "Then lights out at 22, and we'll tuck you in and see how much fuss you like."

"Twenty-two?"

"Two hours before midnight?"

Harry nodded, looked at the analog clock on the wall again, and realized the hour hand was between 20 and 21, "It's earlier than I thought," he said.

"Get ready for bed, anyway."

Harry nodded.

After his bath, Harry looked over the shelves in his new room, pulled a few books down, read the blurbs, then looked at the books lined up on the back of the desk, a mix of hardbacks and paperbacks, some old and battered, some shiny and new, "1990 FAR AIM," "The Dragonriders of Pern," "Sassinak," "Trash: Short Stories by Dorothy Allison," "The Sunless World," "Cold War in a Country Garden," "Annie on my Mind," "My Side of the Mountain," "The Wizard of Oz," "The Sad Sack," "On the Front," "The Devil's Dictionary," "Sword and Sorceress III," "For love of Mother-Not," "Have Spaceship, Will Travel," "Five-twelfths of Heaven," and a dozen or so others.

He set Sassinak and Annie on my Mind on the little table at the side of his bed, climbed in, and started to read Sassinak. He stopped at the end of the first chapter, closed the book, and swapped it for Annie. He was still reading it when Miriam knocked.

"Still awake?" she asked.

"Yes."

She opened the door, and stepped in, followed by Jezbet. Miriam was in black plaid flannel pajamas, and Jezbet in a teal flannel nightgown. Miriam tucked a bookmark in Annie, and set it on the table before pulling the covers up under Harry's chin, "Sleep tight, little one," she said, and kissed him on the forehead.

"I'm almost as tall as you are," Harry complained, smiling anyway.

"OK," Miriam laughed, "Young one, then."

"That's better," Harry agreed.

"Good night," Jezbet told him, pet his hair, pressed her forehead to his, "We'll see you in the morning."

"Good night!" Harry told them.

They turned off the light and shut the door. Harry lay back on his soft, not-too-fluffy pillow, and smiled at the ceiling.

~*J*~


	3. Chapter 3

Harry woke to the smell of frying bacon and yeast bread.

"Oh no," slipped from his lips, and he got dressed quickly, and sped quietly down the stairs.

"Good Morning," Miriam greeted as Harry came into the kitchen. She was reading the paper, a cup of coffee in one hand, the paper in the other, and she turned the page with a tentacle as she smiled up at Harry.

Harry blinked, "Um," he said, staring.

"Have a seat. Do you take coffee, or do you prefer your milk straight?" Jezbet asked.

Harry startled, didn't quite squeak, "Coffee?" he asked.

Jezbet walked over with a cup a moment later, "Cream's on the table, I left space."

Harry wrapped his fingers around the warming cup, and sat, watched as Jezbet pulled a round, flattish bread from the pot on the stove, let it drip a moment, then put it on a plate. She pulled an iron plate on a handle from the skillet, turned the bacon, and put it back on top. She patted and pulled another ball of dough, then dropped it into the pot where it sizzled.

Harry smelled his coffee, took a sip, and burnt his tongue. He looked at the table, and found the pitcher of cream. He poured enough in to cool his coffee, and turn it a pale brown. Much better.

He watched as Miriam again turned the page of her newspaper with a tentacle.

"Oh, that's right, sorry," Miriam said. She set her coffee down, turned her head a little to the side, and pulled her hair up. She wiggled the tentacle, which tapered from a thick base at the top of her neck to snaky slenderness, "There's another one on the other side."

"Oh," Harry said, "That's kinda cool."

"Watch this," Miriam smiled, then turned green, then woodland camo, then blue, red, and back to her normal color.

"Wow. Magic?" Harry asked.

"Chromophores, just like an octopus. The tentacles were inspired by octopi, too, but aren't as obvious a copy."

"You two ready to eat?" Jezbet asked, picking up a largish tray

"Always," Miriam purred.

Harry blinked, then blushed from his hair to the neck of his shirt.

"Miriam," Jezbet scolded, gently.

"I'm sorry Harry, I wasn't teasing you," she paused a moment, "I could if you'd like?"

Harry looked at her, eyes wide, "Please don't."

Miriam laughed, and Jezbet chuckled.

She set a plate in front of Harry first, then Miriam, then her own plate. She set down a covered basket, a pot went on a trivet, two shaker-top containers, and a plate of bacon, then returned the tray to its place beside the stove.

"The confectioner's sugar is good on the fry bread, particularly with a little cinnamon," Miriam said, grabbing the pot and ladling out a scoop of something with a savory smell onto her own fry bread, "I prefer the green chile stew, myself."

Harry gingerly sprinkled powdered sugar and cinnamon onto his own bread, and ate a piece of bacon. There are three eggs on his plate, too - one boiled, and cool, one glistening, the yolk yellow and liquid, and one cooked hard, the yolk popped after it was flipped. Harry ate that one first.

Jezbet, he noticed, also poured stew on her fry bread, which she then tore pieces off of with her fingers to eat. She pulled the lid off the basket, and offered it to Harry, "Another?"

Harry said, "Please," and took the top fry bread, dropping it onto the egg with the runny yolk.

He watched as he ate the bread he put sugar on. Jezbet and Miriam smiled at each other, didn't really talk, but ate quickly. He licked his fingers, picked up the pot of stew, and served himself two ladles full.

It was very spicy, burning his mouth, making his eyes water and his nose run. He used his knife and fork to cut up his fry bread and eggs, and used them to mop up, and tame, his stew. He alternated bites with drinks of his coffee.

"More coffee?"

He looked up, noticed that his cup is almost empty, "Please."

Jezbet poured, then slid the cream over to him as she returned the pot to the warmer.

"Here," Miriam held out the basket of fry bread.

Harry took another one, and tore it into pieces to mop his plate, wiping up the last of his stew and egg yolk.

Jezbet pushed the plate of bacon over near his plate, and Miriam had left the basket of fry bread. "Eat," Jezbet said, "We're going to be teaching you why things work, so that when you're in magic school, you will know when there is an easy way, and when you have to do it the hard way."

"Oh?" Harry sugared another fry bread, and transferred a few pieces of bacon to his plate.

"Yep. Jezbet'll teach you how the sewing machine works, then we'll make you some clothes."

"OK," Harry said.

~*i*~

"So, we've loaded the bobbin," Jezbet said, "This is a shuttle bobbin," she popped it out of the bobbin winder, "And this is the shuttle. Current machines don't use a shuttle, I think because a rotating shuttle allowed for easier reverse stitch. You drop the bobbin in, and pull the thread under the tension spring. That done, you drop the shuttle in its cradle." She pulled the loose end of the thread from the big spool up, and fed it through loops, "This in the upper tension, and you adjust in when needed," between the spring-loaded plates, and up through an arm that moved up and down, then through a couple more loops, then threaded it through the needle.

She took a piece of fabric, and set it on the machine, "I'm going to leave the slideplates off, so you can watch it work," she slid the fabric under the needle, and flicked a lever, causing a **clunk** , "That is the presser foot, and it holds the fabric against the feed pawl, which moves the fabric forward one stitch at a time. For each stitch, the needle pushes the top thread though the fabric, the arm drops, loosening the top thread, the shuttle pulls the bottom thread through the loop, and the arm pulls the top thread tight. If the bottom thread is pulled out the top, your upper tension is too high, and if the bottom thread is loose, your tension is too low."

She let Harry hand-crank the machine around a few times. He did, watching the string slide around the shuttle. "That's pretty cool."

Jezbet nodded, "Sewing machines were almost as important as electricity in changing the economics of the world. Before sewing machines, clothes were a major budget item, and someone stealing your laundry could be devastating to a family. Making and repairing clothes took a good chunk of a family's, generally the women, time. Now a normal shirt costs less than a meal."

"We're gonna practice sewing straight and curved seams, then I'm gonna let Miriam take over."

"You don't sew?"

"Upholstery. Clothes annoy me," Jezbet shrugged and smiled.

~*i*~

"We'll start with a basic t-tunic, which is a simple, easily modifiable garment," Miriam sketched it out on a piece of paper, "Make the body shorter, it's a shirt, longer, and it's a dress, sleeves can be tight, or trail to the ground. It isn't fitted so much as sized, so it is very simple and easy to make, cut it out, and sew it down the sides."

Miriam walked him through measuring him and sizing the pattern accordingly. She helped him fold the fabric, good side in, and showed him how to pin the pattern in place.

"Fabric sheers should only be used on fabric, so don't use these for cutting leather or paper, OK? We've got other scissors for that," Miriam cut one side along the edge of the paper pattern with quick, practiced motions and long, smooth cuts.

Harry cut the other side, struggling a bit to keep all three layers even, despite the pins, and his cuts were short, leaving many jagged edges.

"If you keep it up, your edges will get prettier, but this is good enough. Now you get to sew it. Did Jezbet show you how to backtack the seam ends?"

Harry shook his head.

"Start a bit in from the edge, sew to the edge," Miriam did, then left the needle down as she lifted the presser foot and turned the fabric around, "It's a bit easier if your machine does reverse, but I still like this machine," she dropped the presser foot again, spun the handwheel, and started working the treadle quickly, guiding the seam along an even half-inch from the cut edge, pulling the pins as she went, and tugging the extra fabric along every few inches. She stopped after about half of the sleeve, "Like that."

Harry nodded. It took him two tries to get the machine going again, he messed up the first time, the treadle turning the belt backwards. He got that sorted, and sewed, mostly evenly, down that edge. He slowed down at the end, stopped a stitch past the edge, and turned the handwheel backward, stabbing the needle back into the cloth, lifted the presser foot, turned the fabric, and sewed back a couple centimeters. He cranked the wheel forward, lifting the needle out, and lifted the presser foot. He pulled the cloth gently away, tucked the threads into the cutter below the presser foot's lever, and cut it free.

Miriam nodded at him, "Nice. You keep practicing and you'll have this down."

Harry smiled, and put the other seam under the needle.

~*i*~

Harry wore a shirt and pants he sewed himself to lunch.

"Looking good, Harry," Jezbet said, "Better than I would have done." She buttered the flat plates of the appliance in front of her, put a sandwich in, and closed it.

Harry looked at the device, "Is that a waffle iron?"

"Yes. This one has reversible plates, so right now it's a sandwich press."

"That's pretty cool."

"They're harder to find now than they used to be. This one is probably forty years old, we got it in the '60s."

Harry watched, smelling the butter, bread, melting cheese, and ham.

"And done. First one's for you," Jezbet picked up the grilled sandwich and put it on a plate for him, "Pickle and crisps are traditional sides, but there's all sorts of things," she waved at the collection of bottles and bags on the counter.

Harry found a dill pickle and shook some potato crisps onto his plate.

Jezbet put another sandwich in the press, "Go on, sit down."

Harry sat. His sandwich was crisp, gooey, and delicious.

~*J*~


	4. Chapter 4

"Afternoons are your time, you can work on whatever interests you, or read. Read at least a chapter of the Hogwarts book every day," Jezbet said after lunch.

"All right," Harry said, "I'll read some more, then?"

"I'll call you down for dinner," Jezbet told him.

He got about 75 pages into Sassinank, put in a bookmark after Sass graduates Fleet academy, and Abe is killed.

Annie was a much easier read, and he smiled a lot at Annie and Eliza's antics, both at the Met and the Cloisters. The story drew him along, and he was more than halfway through the book by dinnertime.

The spicy scents from downstairs distracted him well before dark, so he carried Annie downstairs, and set the book on the table while he investigated the stove.

"What's this?" he asked Jezbet when she walked up behind him.

"Vegetable kofta curry," she said, "With saffron rice and naan."

"It smells awesome."

She sampled the curry, then held the spoon out to him, "Here, taste."

Harry took the spoon, licked it clean, then washed it before he handed it back. "It's good. My aunt never let me," he paused, "She never made anything like this, and she wouldn't buy me anything."

"Your aunt has always been a bit off. She has been getting better as she's grown, but she's very young, still. If she doesn't change who she hangs out with, it'll be a few centuries, but she'll grow up."

"Most people don't live that long."

"Yeah, there's something about magic, or magical society, that really inhibits reproductive success."

Harry cocked his head, "Reproductive success?"

"Having grandkids who survive to adulthood."

Harry thinks about it a bit, then nods, "Magic should provide a big advantage."

"Yep. In wild populations, a 1% advantage will spread and supplant those without that trait, so there's obviously something disadvantageous involved. What that is? We haven't been studying you guys long enough to be sure, but I have some guesses."

"What do you guess?"

"In England? Britain, actually? You keep having little wars, keep yourselves segregated, ignore or kill off your new blood, and that's leaving aside the stupidity that is magical contracts. That's just a guess, but ask about grandmothers and great-grandmothers when you get to school."

Harry nodded, a frown turning his face down.

"Sit down, continue your book. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so, and there's plenty of time to worry about the fate of the wizarding world later."

"Yeah," Harry said before he sat back down.

After dinner Miriam turned to Harry, "Have you seen E.T.?"

"Most of it, on the TV."

"Alien?"

"No. Dudley wanted to, but my aunt said no."

"Then I guess we have a plan for tonight. Popcorn?" Jezbet asked.

"Please."

They watched Alien first, and Harry's eyes were glued to the screen from the moment the first line of the opening titles faded in until Ripley's closing log entry, "are dead, the cargo and ship destroyed. I should reach the frontier in about six weeks. With a little luck the network will pick me up. This is Ripley, last survivor of the Nostromo, signing off." Fade to black, Ripley tucked into hyper sleep with Jones, the orange cat.

Harry was almost asleep by the end of E.T., and Miriam carried him up to bed.

Harry protested sleepily, "I can walk," he said, softly.

"I know you can, but that would wake you up. It's not like you're heavy."

"OK, then," Harry nodded.

He submitted quietly to getting tucked under the covers, and was asleep by the time they closed the door.

~*i*~

He woke, again, but less panicked this time, to the smell of breakfast cooking. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, then padded down the stairs.

Miriam is cooking this morning, singing softly along with the male voice on the stereo, "well believe me this has been one lousy day. Jurassic Park is frightening in the dark. Someone shut the fence off in the rain," as she grates potatoes.

Harry watched as she turned the bacon, cracked another egg into the skillet, "I thought that song was "McArthur Park."

"Yeah, this version will be out in a few years, probably," Miriam said. She plated the bacon, and poured the grated potatoes into the bacon grease. They sizzle eagerly, filling the room with the earthy scent of raw potatoes for a moment, gradually becoming more delicious as they cook. She flipped them after a bit, and they sizzle again.

"Set the table?" she asked.

Harry nodded, and set to work.

"Do you know how to ride a bicycle?" Jezbet asked, sitting down with the paper.

"No," Harry said, "Dudley wanted a racing bike for his birthday, but I don't think he knows how, either."

"Then I guess we'll have to teach him before the summer's out. There's nothing like a bike to make the world smaller."

"Oh? How about a car?"

Miriam set down platters, "Here the modern safety bicycle only predated the car by a few decades. A human with a bicycle is the most efficient land animal, ever. Even a single-speed fixed gear can easily cover a hundred miles a day on good gravel roads. Thirty miles with a horse is an all-day trip."

"Will I be able to ride a hundred miles in a day?"

Jezbet shrugged, "If you decide you want to, and work up to it. Without much effort, you can beat public transit anywhere within ten miles."

After breakfast Harry fell down. A lot. Every few meters at first.

"It's discouraging, I remember, but," Miriam walked behind, holding onto the seat, and Harry started peddling again.

A few meters later, she let go, and he peddled along a bit. He wobbled sharply, hopped off the saddle, dabbed with one foot, then recovered with a big grin, and continued.

Miriam kicked the sidestand up on her bike, put her foot on the near pedal, and swung her leg over as she took off. She caught up to Harry and Jezbet, and pedaled sedately on the other side.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked.

Harry looked at her, wobbled, and quickly looked back forward, "Brooklands Museum." he said, after a bit.

"That's a long way for a first ride," Jezbet said.

"Can we get there before they close?"

"If we work at it, we should be able to get there by lunch."

Harry's lips tightened a moment, he swallowed, rode along a bit, "I'd like that."

"Then let's go."

~*i*~

They got there about lunch, and Harry was dragging a bit as the bikes vanished back wherever they came from. Jezbet found them a table outside the little cafe, and Miriam led Harry inside to order.

After a bit of rest and some food, Harry took the lead.

There were not any races that day, but Harry spent all afternoon looking at the old racecars, motorcycles, and airplanes.

They were the last visitors out.

"Can we come back again? I didn't get to see everything."

"There's a race in a few weeks," Jezbet said, "I could run the SLR."

"Do we have a kart? I can't remember," Miriam asked.

"We had one. I'm not sure if they do karts here."

"I'm sure we can find someplace for Harry to practice."

"Whats a cart?"

"Go-kart, un-suspended 4-wheel vehicle, small, relatively low power, fun to race," Miriam said, "There are often youth brackets down to as low as five or six."

"That might be fun," Harry allowed.

~*i*~

They got home about dark, and Harry ate a hamburger and fries, eyes drooping. Jezbet carried him upstairs, and tucked him in his bed.

Miriam kissed him on the forehead.

"That was a lot of fun," Harry said, eyes closed.

~*J*~


End file.
